


Struck

by Rycolfan (Snarryeyes)



Category: Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 18:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2357294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snarryeyes/pseuds/Rycolfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Colin’s day is going from bad to worse. Or is it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Struck

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2014 Whose-A-Thon on LJ. Prompt: “Don’t worry, I’m a doctor.”
> 
> Not real. No offense intended to those portrayed herein.

The bruised coccyx that he’d sustained courtesy of a patch of ice outside his apartment had been bad enough, but it seems that the universe isn’t finished with him quite yet. Colin is left pondering life’s little ironies as he lies flat on his back in the middle of the street, pain blossoming in his head and all along his left side where the truck has just impacted.

“Shit! Are you okay?”

Someone is beside him—a guy judging by the deep voice. The driver maybe. The truck has at least stopped, salvaging a little of his faith in humanity.

“Define okay,” Colin bites out. “I’ve been better.” He attempts to turn his head to bring the stranger into view but a firm hand stops him.

“Lie still, you might have a spinal injury. Call an ambulance!”

Colin is pretty sure that last bit isn’t meant for him. He’s hardly in any position to do anything, let alone make a call, plus he can feel the shattered remnants of his cell in his pocket—the new cell he’s only just bought to replace the last one he broke. Figures.

He winces as fingers gently probe his injured side. As they move up to his neck, the strangers face comes into view. Green eyes are focused intently on the passage of those digits, the brow above creased in concentration. They’re nice eyes, Colin muses. In fact, it’s a nice face. Okay, the nose is a bit out of proportion with the rest but you can’t have everything. Wait, what the hell is he doing? He must have a concussion.

The guy misinterprets his frown. “Don’t worry, I’m a doctor.”

“So you can mend people after you break them?”

“I swear you’re the first person I’ve broken…. today.”

Colin snorts, the movement making his pain spike. “Ouch! Fuck. Can you not do that?”

“Sorry.” A small smile lights the guy’s face for an instant, transforming it. “I was trying to avoid a cat,” he adds a beat later and it takes Colin a moment to catch up because he’s still thinking of painful laughter. “It ran into the street.”

“Well, as long as the cat’s okay,” Colin replies wryly, and he’s rewarded with a deep rumble of laughter. It distracts him nicely from the cold wetness creeping into the back of his clothes. His head’s hurting more now but he tries to ignore it.

The warm fingers withdraw, instantly making him even colder. “Well, I don’t think you’ve broken anything but you’ll have some spectacular bruising in a few days.”

“Great,” Colin sighs. He can hear sirens getting closer but, strangely enough, the promise of a warm bed and proper medical care do little to cheer him. He wonders if this guy works at the hospital he’ll be taken to.

“Sorry. Again.”

“It’s okay,” Colin says and means it. Then, wanting to lighten the tone, adds, “I’d probably pick the cat over you, too.”

This sparks proper laughter, sending warmth flooding through Colin’s cold body.

 

The cops arrive with the ambulance, in an unnecessary cacophony of sirens that makes Colin’s head thump in protest. As Colin is loaded onto a gurney—rather painfully it has to be said, but at least he’s out of the cold slush on the ground—his friendly neighborhood doctor and feline savior is taken aside to be questioned. Now the guy is standing, Colin can see just how tall he is, towering over the cop taking his statement. He turns to look at Colin as he passes.

“I’ll check in on you tomorrow, alright? And I promise I’ll leave my truck in the parking lot.”

Colin smiles and says, “Colin,” realizing that he never told the guy his name.

“Ryan,” the guy calls back. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Colin has a last glimpse of Ryan gesturing back along the street, presumably to the long-since vanished cat, as he explains what happened. Then the doors slam shut and a different, and far less pleasing to look at, guy is poking and prodding him.

Ignoring it as best he can, Colin closes his eyes and recalls a vibrant shade of green. He’s willing to concede that perhaps, _this_ time, the universe was doing him a favor.

Today is a write-off. But tomorrow is looking up.


End file.
